- Erotic Poetry
- My New Lover
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My new lover
is a poet.
I caught him
in the coffee shop,
eyes lingering
upon my breasts,
wanton and yet
something sweet.
He was lost
in adoration.
When he looked up
with blushed smile,
I took his hand
and kissed him
deep and slow.
Then together,
without words,
we climbed stairs
onto the roof.
And there
bathed in rain,
he took me
from behind
with hands
on round hips
holding firm
urging me
to spread
my shaking
soft thighs,
mouth tasting
my pulse
almost biting
whispering
those names
that make me
push back wet
as he fucked
his hunger
into me.
I love to read
his poetry aloud,
for him to hear
my voice wrapped
around his words,
the same way
I take his cock
each morning,
as if I'm sucking
the verbs and nouns
out from deep within.
as if I'm forcing
his lines to cum hard,
beyond his control,
their meanings
dripping like cream
down my chin,
as I smile up at him
full of knowing.
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